Paradise Lost
by GraceBe
Summary: This story is AU and plays with the idea of how life at Downton Abbey had been different if Violet had really eloped with Prince Kuragin. Chapter 6 is up! Abigail pays Violet an unpleasant visit and Mrs Hughes & her admirer have a heart to heart!
1. A person non grata

**Paradise Lost **

"A proverb, referring to the loss of a seemingly perfect situation, desired by one or many."

**Chapter 1**

**Downton, Yorkshire, March 1912**

**Upstairs **

The sudden coldness in Robert Crawley's chest was in contrast to the beautiful sight of the morning sun that fell through the windows. He sighed audibly as he put down the letter and looked up to meet his wife's eyes that sparkled with hope and her typically tamed excitement.

"What do you say?" she asked, smiling.

"What do you want me to say?" he returned, far less enthusiastic. "I can't believe you answered her letter in the first place! And without telling me!"

Robert rose angrily and started pacing the library.

Cora's smile faded slowly. She had hoped against hope that her husband would react differently. "But Robert, you haven't seen your mother since our wedding. Don't you think it's time to get reacquainted?"

"It's very true. I… we haven't seen my mother in over 22 years and I think it should stay that way!"

"But Robert, she's asking for it," Cora argued mildly. "She wants to come home. She wants to meet our family."

"She's got a family of her own," Robert reminded her sternly. "She has a husband, two grown children and a rich and busy life in Paris. She's already proved how much she cares when she didn't bother to return for her own daughter's funeral! I really see no reason why I should allow her to come to this house to remind her - and the rest of us for that matter - of what she has left almost 40 years ago. It would be most awkward to have her around after everything she has done to us!" His voice had risen during his small speech and Cora mentally braced herself for a longer argument.

"Maybe she knows by now what she has left and wishes to make amends," Cora suggested stubbornly. "And we know she wasn't at the funeral, because the telegram we sent to Paris after the accident never reached her! She can't be held accountable for that!" She knew how Robert felt about his mother and her leaving the family for another man. She knew Robert was still hurting over everything connected to her, although he would never admit it. Perhaps not even to himself.

Even after 38 years Princess Violet Kuragina, former Countess of Grantham, was a persona non grata at Downton Abbey.

"My mother is hardly the woman to make amends," Robert scoffed, ignoring Cora's last statement.

"I think we should invite her," Cora repeated. "The girls should know their grandmother."

"The girls already have two grandmothers," Robert returned. "And besides: how do you think Abigail would take my mother's presence in our house? Do you remember the last time these two have crossed paths?"

Cora sighed. She knew Abigail Crawley, the Dowager Countess of Grantham and Robert's step mother, wouldn't be pleased about the visit of her infamous predecessor, but then Abigail was never pleased about anything that happened at the Abbey. She had never really coped with her move to the village, after her husband, the fourth Earl of Grantham, Robert's father, had died and Robert had succeeded his father.

"Abigail is not the question here," Cora said, knowing Abigail was always a reason to worry. "I think you should consider inviting her. I think the time to end the hate has come."

Robert thought about this for a moment. He had to admit Cora had hit a nerve with her request. A long time ago his father had found a way to forgive his ex-wife. The question was, could Robert do the same?

"I don't hate my mother, Cora," he clarified slowly and in a calmer voice. "I'm just not sure how to live with her."

**Downstairs **

Elsie Hughes entered the wine cellar and closed the door behind her. Surprised by the sound, the man who checked the contents of the shelves, looked up. He smiled gently when he noticed his visitor.

"What can I do for you?"

"Is it true?" Mrs Hughes asked with raised eyebrows. "His Lordship wants to invite his mother? Apparently her Ladyship told Miss O'Brien about it."

"Then she knows more than me," the butler answered. "There was a letter from Paris in the mail today and the sender was his Lordship's mother. That's all I can say."

"But she hasn't been here in ages!" Mrs Hughes said, surprise written all over her face.

"Well, it appears, she wants to change that."

"Do you know her?" the housekeeper asked.

"Yes, the Princess and her husband came here for his Lordship's wedding and I do remember some rather unpleasant moments. Especially between her and the Dowager."

"Now that I can imagine," Elsie said with a cheeky smile. "The Dowager is a rather mean woman when she wants to be."

"Although I can't say that the Princess has backed down to her. On the contrary. If she really returns to our little nest, we'll be in for a very interesting, if not dangerous treat!" Lane smiled and the housekeeper returned his smile.

"As long as she won't mess up my maids, I'll be happy to watch."

Mr Lane was about to return the quip when the door behind them suddenly opened and a man peeked in.

"Excuse me, Mr Lane," he said. "But His Lordship needs you upstairs," he informed him, somewhat coldly.

"Thank you, Mr Carson," Lane said, all friendliness and ease. "We were done here anyway. Mrs. Hughes, we will talk later." He gave her an appreciative smile and left the wine cellar without paying Carson a second look.

"Is something wrong, Mr Carson?" the housekeeper asked, when she noticed that he was still looking at her.

The tall man shook his head. "No, Mrs Hughes, nothing's wrong, but…," he broke off, obviously searching for words. "It's just that…."

"Well?" she encouraged him gently. "There are people who question your… behaviour. With Mr Lane." Even in the half darkness of the wine cellar she could see how the colour of his face turned into a deep red. "You haven't been here for a long time. Don't allow them to gossip about you. For your own sake," he said lowly and left before she could respond.

**Paris **

Violet Kuragina stared at the pieces of the broken vase on the floor in front of the fireplace and wondered whether the servants would hear her, if she started screaming. They had just finished their afternoon tea and after hearing the news he had delivered she had lost it.

"Have you really just thrown a vase at me?" Igor asked, amused and aghast at the same time.

"Apparently," she answered, already hating herself for her lack of composure.

"You haven't done that in over 25 years."

It shouldn't surprise her that he was keeping score about things like that, but somehow it did. And it infuriated her even more.

"And if my memory serves me correctly the whole thing ended with us making love on the floor in this very same room."

"Now, it won't end like this today. I can promise you that!"

His eyes glittered with the promise of knowing better, but he knew better than telling her so. There was only a certain amount of teasing allowed, before she would probably replace the vase with a knife.

"I can't believe you told our son to marry that woman!"

Kuragin sighed. They had had this discussion before and the outcome was always the same. "Do you really think we're the right people to give advice on marriage?"

She repaid his remark with a raised eyebrow. "But she doesn't love him!" Violet argued. "She's a fortune hunter!"

"But Alexander loves her. We'll only drive him away by telling him to let go of her. He's old enough to make his own decisions!"

"In this case he's the first man of that sort I've ever come across!"

Kuragin smiled. "I can tell you about one decision I've made a long time ago. Nobody I knew approved of it and yet I went through with it. And I'm glad I did." He gave her a loving glance that instantly caused her demeanour to soften.

"We are different," she returned lowly.

"But it was worth the fight," he reminded her and closed the distance between them.

"Why don't we ask him to go to England with us?" he suggested, as he turned her to face him. "He can make up his mind there... and perhaps he'll meet a decent English girl that sweeps him off his feet?"

Violet couldn't hide her smile. So he wasn't as convinced about his own son's sanity after all. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Long enough to be sure that this trip could be good for something after all."

"Please, Igor, I have to do this."

He sighed heavily. "I know. Yet I doubt it'll be rewarding. In the end you'll end up being hurt. Just like the last time." He pulled her a little closer.

"That's why I want you by my side," she said warmly and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand.

"I'm always at your side," he took her hand into his, kissed it tenderly and bent over to place a soft kiss on her lips.

**~tbc~**

**A big thank you goes to my favourite fanfic beta ever. **


	2. Decisions

**Here we go again. First I want to thank each and everyone who took their time to read, comment and alert this story. I was overwhelmed by your lovely feedback and I hope you'll enjoy this ride as much as I enjoy writing it. I also want to thank my beta and best friend Gemenied, who makes this thing look better than it is :-) **

**Chapter 2 **

May, 1912

**Upstairs **

Mary Crawley watched her step-grandmother with slight amusement, while the older woman pushed the asparagus around her plate with slight disgust. One could tell that the Dowager was even less pleased with the recent developments than with the food. Of course, the black clothing that filled the room didn't do any good to improve the mood. After the sinking of the Titanic the family had lost two of their heirs at once and now a complete stranger was likely to become the new head of the family one day. This, combined with the prospect of their lost grandmother's return to England was enough to put Abigail on edge.

"So, it's settled then?" Mary asked her father. "The lost sheep will return to England for the season?"

"She's hardly what I would call a sheep," Abigail snapped before Robert could answer.

He chose not to comment and slowly sipped his wine before he answered. "That's true. London appears to be a neutral ground for that sort of… reunion. I understood she wants to visit Rosamund's grave as well."

"I think that's a good idea," Cora said carefully, always watching her mother-in-law from the corner of her eyes.

"Seems odd that they decided to come to London during the season," Edith said bewildered. "I mean, can you imagine them getting any invitations?"

"You forget that her husband is a successful diplomat," Robert answered. "And he's still a Russian Prince. From what I hear he has made quite a name for himself in certain circles . I doubt they'll have problems getting accepted."

"Of course, he's a diplomat," Abigail said smugly. "God knows it needs a diplomat to live with her."

"And money and position always makes the best of friends," Mary added smugly.

"I think it's exciting," Sybil smiled. "I can't wait to meet her."

"I would ration my excitement if I were you," Abigail said. "I don't know what's so glorious about meeting someone who turned her back on all of you many years ago."

"But that's it," Sybil argued. "I really want to know what happened. Nobody ever talks about it!"

Cora tried to hide her smile. Sybil and her radiant excitement were always endearing to watch, even though it was misplaced when Abigail was on warpath.

"If you ask me, it'll be interesting to meet him," Mary said. "The man must be something, if she dared to run away with him like some love-stricken teenage girl."

Edith rolled her eyes. "Can't you think about anything but men?"

"At least I have reason to think about them," Mary snapped back and Cora instantly intervened in a low voice, "Stop it now!"

But it was Abigail who ended the discussion with her remark. "Maybe lust-stricken… But love? I highly doubt that."

Robert cleared his throat and tried to end the subject before the servants' hall would have a another subject to gossip about. "In any case, it's settled and we all will try to make the best of it."

* * *

><p><strong>Downstairs<strong>

In the hallway downstairs the butler thought about the last two hours and was glad they were over and done with.

Lane had watched the dinner with growing displeasure. The tension upstairs was high and he had a feeling that things wouldn't improve once the family was in London.

It always caused uproar downstairs when things turned ugly upstairs. People started talking and gossiping and in the worst of cases the family would notice, which would reflect badly on him. It was a vicious circle that was hard to break.

When the women had finally risen to leave Robert with his port and his cigar, Lane had drawn a deep breath. The worst was over. For today.

On the way to his pantry he met Mrs Hughes who just came out of her sitting room. "Are they finished?" she asked.

"Yes, and thank God they are. The Dowager was certainly in a mood today."

Elsie smiled. "So I heard. Thomas said she practically called his Lordship's mother a…," she stopped, blushed and lowered her eyes. "You know what."

"She did indeed," Lane confirmed. "I tell you, Mrs Hughes, this is going to become quite ugly."

"I'm not surprised. With everything going on. Have they found the new heir yet?"

"I think they have. But you know these things take time."

"I suppose they do." She passed him and he looked after her. "Mrs Hughes?"

"Yes?" she turned her head, but made sure her eyes didn't meet his.

"Is something the matter? You seem preoccupied lately."

"I'm fine, Mr Lane," she answered quickly and went into the kitchen. Lane watched her with a frown. He had a hunch she was lying She had been avoiding him for several weeks now. Ever since Mr Carson had disturbed them in the wine cellar. Sometimes he wondered how exactly His Lordship's valet felt about Mrs Hughes. Charles Carson was a stiff sort, but Lane had noticed a certain glitter in the man's eyes every time he talked to Mrs Hughes. Not that she seemed to notice anything that wasn't related to her work. Too often she showed a rather tough exterior, but when she smiled one of her rare smiles, one could see how beautiful she actually was. He loved working with her, even though she had only been at Downton for two years. She had come as head housemaid, but half a year ago she had been promoted to housekeeper, after her predecessor had suddenly died of a stroke. She was perfect for the job, but being this good came with a price – her smile.

* * *

><p><strong>Paris<strong>

It was almost midnight when Violet was sitting at her dressing table, pondering over a couple of pictures that she had kept in her diary for the last 38 years. They showed a 12 year old Robert and a 14 year old Rosamund. She found herself staring at them quite often these days, because she thought they could steel her for the weeks to come.

She knew deep down Igor wasn't looking forward to this trip and at times she wasn't either. On the other hand she felt the strong need to return to the place where she had spent the first thirty-two years of her life. England was still her home and as much as she had enjoyed her life with Igor and her younger children, she had never felt truly at home in Paris or any other place they had lived over the years. But it wasn't just homesickness. She also needed to see her daughter's grave. The sad circumstances surrounding Rosamund's funeral were still nagging at her. Until this day she didn't know whether the family really hadn't bothered to telegraph her after Rosamund's death or if the several messages they had sent really never found their way to Paris.

She heard the door opening behind her and placed the pictures back in her diary and put it back into her drawer. Not so much because she didn't want him to see her looking at them. She just didn't want to talk about it.

Violet turned and was surprised to find him still in white tie.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked, surprised.

"Not yet. I just got a message from Alexander. The police picked him up."

Her eyes narrowed and even though she knew what he implied she phrased her question nevertheless. "What do you mean? Picked him up?" her voice was sharp as a knife.

"He's in prison. He was drunk and got into a fight," Kuragin informed her calmly. "And I have to get him out of there unless you want to do it."

Violet gave him a look, "This is not the first time this happens. If it wasn't so embarrassing, we should consider letting him stay in there for a couple of nights!"

"I doubt it would make much of an impression on him," Kuragin said non-chalantly.

"You mean he's as impressionable as you are," she quipped.

"Not to mention his mother." He gave her a smile. "I won't be long. Will you wait for me?"

"I might." She turned her back to him and saw his smile broaden in the reflection of her mirror before he turned around and left.

Igor returned about three hours later and found Violetasleep with a book on her lap and her glasses askew on her nose. He smiled at the sight of her and bent down to take off her glasses.

She stirred lightly, as he tried to take the book, and opened her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily and sat up.

"Early," he answered with a smile. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Never mind. What about Alexander?"

Kuragin sighed, "Apparently, he punched a man to defend the honour of his so called fiancé."

"I see. Will they press charges against him?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so. I'll talk to a few people tomorrow, but I'm not overly worried." The smile had vanished from his face and Violet became worried.

"So, what does bother you?" she asked lowly.

"It's not Alexander. It was just when I saw him behind these prison bars..."

"Yes?" she encouraged him gently.

"I was thinking about Natasha...," he broke off and when he spoke again his voice was raw, almost broken. "And what I would have done, if they had arrested her."

Violet leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. It didn't happen often that he showed his vulnerability in such an open manner. Igor Kuragin was a strong man with deep emotions, but she was one of the few people in his life who he opened up to. After a few seconds she felt how he relaxed and leaned against her. "She's fine," she said tenderly. "Our daughter is safe."

"I hope you're right," he said and buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I couldn't bear to lose any of you."

**~tbc~**


	3. Relationships tested

**So, here we go with Chapter 3. Enjoy yourselves and be so kind to drop me quick note. Also thank my fabulous beta who does her best to make this puppy better than it is! **

**Chapter 3**

May, 1912

**Dower House, Upstairs **

"The point is," Robert stated as calmly as he could. "We will have to deal with the situation, whether you like it or not. Mama is coming to London. It's settled."

He had known from the very beginning that Abigail wouldn't like the idea of his mother's return to England. Yet last night he had been shocked about the way Abigail had spoken about her predecessor not only in front of his daughters, but also in front of the servants. If he hated one thing it was gossip and scandal.

Fact was he couldn't deny his mother to come to London. He had wanted to, at first, but Cora had convinced him to rethink his position and as so many times before, she had been right. There was no use in making things even more difficult than they already were. Casting a shadow over his mother's visit would be useless. The more smoothly everything went, the better for all of them. Once the season was over his mother and her family would return to Paris and they would go home to Downton.

"I don't see the point of this peculiar reunion in the first place," Abigail said. She was sitting in her chair close to the window and Robert thought that today was one of those days were she looked more imperious than Queen Victoria ever had.

"And I don't see the point of you making such a fuss about it. You don't even have to talk to her, if you don't want to."

"And you even offered her and her clan could stay in Rosamund's house. Your father would turn in his grave!"

"I doubt that," Robert said. Abigail liked to think the late Earl had hated his former wife, but Robert wasn't so sure about it. He had his reasons to believe otherwise, but he preferred not to touch on the subject. He could have reminded his step-mother that Violet eloping with a Russian prince had been the reason for Abigail gaining the title of a Countess in the first place, but he feared that would be a battle lost, before it had started. She would always find a way to discredit someone she saw as an enemy.

"This woman will stir up trouble, my dear," Abigail insisted. "I'm sure she has an ulterior motive for her visit."

"And if she has one, we will find out about it soon enough," Robert said. "All I want for you is not to incite the girls. I want this season to pass smoothly and if possible without scandal or too much attention!"

Abigail remained unimpressed. She shrugged and announced with all the posture she could muster:

"Well, if necessary I'll tell it like it is. To them – and to her for that matter." With that she turned away, faced the wall, and Robert realized defeated that the conversation was over.

He had known beforehand Abigail wouldn't listen to him, but he amount of hate in her voice worried him deeply. When it came to Violet Kuragina Abigail seemed to lose her good judgement and her manners. And a loose canon was the last thing he needed.

After Robert was gone Abigail rose and slowly walked over to her small Davenport and opened the drawer. It only contained two small envelopes without address or other identification.

She took them out and carried them to the fireplace.

After she unfolding the letters she skimmed the short messages and knew the time to take action had come. The telegrams had been written about five years ago and they had never reached their destination. Five years ago she had made sure Violet wouldn't return to Downton. This time her chances to prevent the worst seemed less good. In fact, she feared she was already beaten. All she could do now was to ensure sure neither Violet nor her family would enjoy their season in London.

* * *

><p><strong>Paris <strong>

Aside from the black eye that graced his otherwise handsome face, a very pale and obviously over-tired Alexander Kuragin sat next to his father in the sun-flooded dining room of the Kuragin town house. They were supposed to have breakfast, but neither of them was eating. While Alexander was just staring at the wall, hungover and hoping he could die before he had to face his mother, Igor was hiding behind the newspaper and his coffee. Last night when his father had bailed him out, Alexander had known the old man was furious with him. On their way back to the mansion Igor Kuragin hadn't spoken a single word. The silent treatment of his father was just the calm before the storm. Not that his father was someone who talked much in the first place. He was the listener, the diplomat who absorbed the facts, made up his mind and then found the right way to phrase his thoughts. His mother was different. She was just as sharp-minded as her husband, yet she wasn't a diplomat. She had a way with words that could cut right through one's heart and mind and, at least in the privacy of their home, she didn't bother much about the consequences. No, facing his mother's rage was not something he looked forward to.

"My, my... what a sight! My two favourite men are peacefully enjoying their petit-déjeuner."

Alexander groaned annoyedly and Igor's newspaper sank. Unnoticed by both of them Natasha Kuragina DeWilde, dressed in a stunning ensemble of finest mourning clothes, had entered the room. She watched her father and her twin-brother with tender amusement.

"Dear Brother, I heard you had a very interesting evening."

Alexander just rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed. He loved the banter with his sister, who was as witty as their mother, but much gentler in the delivery. For the first time this morning Igor smiled and put his newspaper down.

"Tasha!"

Both men rose from their chairs and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Then butler offered her a chair.

"Do you want some coffee, Madame?" he asked diligently.

"Yes, please... that means unless my pale brother will give me his," Natasha quipped as she sank down on her chair and let her eyes linger on his filled plate.

"Get her some coffee of her own," Igor ordered with a smile. As always when Natasha entered the room, Igor's mood was lighting up and Alexander was grateful for the diversion.

"You're up early," Igor remarked gently.

"Only because Mama ordered me to," Natasha replied. "Apparently she wants to dress me up for London. I'm here to pick her up."

"It's about time you get out of these black things!" Alexander said disparagingly. "God knows that husband of yours didn't deserve to be mourned."

The door to the dining room opened again and the butler came in. Igor gave his son a warning look and Alexander quickly changed the subject.

"So we are serious about this London visit," he said. "I really thought we could skip the whole expedition."

"It's your mother's wish to go there and we'll support her!" Igor's voice didn't leave much room for opposition and Alexander knew better than to argue, but in this case Natasha was the one who stood up for him.

"Alexander's right," Natasha argued. "The idea is crackers. They hate her. They didn't even tell her, when her own daughter died. What kind of people exclude a mother from the funeral of her own daughter?"

"They don't hate her, but you'll have to understand that the situation was not easy for them either. I met them only once, but I find it hard to believe Robert would deliberately hurt her like that," Igor appeased. "And they have offered us Rosamund's house at Eaton Square for the whole summer."

"I know... Mama told me about it. Still, it's odd and I wonder what they're up to."

"Enough of this now."

"Our father, always the diplomat," Alexander grinned and took a sip of his now cold coffee.

"All right," Natasha raised her hands. "We go to London, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst." Then her eyes skimmed over her brother's face and she smirked. "I don't know why someone gave you that black eye, but I hope she was worth it. It looks terribly painful and unattractive."

Alexander didn't bother to return her smile. "Can't you pester someone else? Don't you have some in-laws who aren't tired of your jokes?"

"I'm afraid they don't like me as much as you do," Natasha returned sweetly.

"Why doesn't this surprise me?"

"It's time you move back in here anyway," Igor interrupted their banter. "I don't want you to live in this man's house."

Natasha sighed. She knew her father meant well, but they had been over this numerous times. "We already talked about that. I'll get my own place, as soon as the will is settled."

"This house is big enough," Igor returned.

"But I want my own place. I can take care of myself."

"We've seen that," Alexander mused darkly, which caused his sister to lose her colour. He instantly wished he hadn't opened his mouth. "Sorry, Tasha. Forgive me," he said gently and reached out to take her hand. "I didn't mean it. Of course, you can take care of yourself. Blame the headache."

She didn't answer, but she squeezed his hand in return, which meant nothing less than that he was forgiven.

The door to the dining room opened again and this time Violet came in. She was already dressed in a purple coat and a large, magnificent hat. Her demeanour screamed business and Natasha quickly gulped down her coffee. The men rose and Natasha and her mother greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, Mama," Alexander smiled at his mother, hoping against hope, she would return the gesture. Of course, she didn't.

"I hope you don't expect us to have you for dinner tonight. The Devereaux' are coming and I don't wish to explain why my son looks like a carnival barker after a lost renconter."

"Of course not, Mama," Alexander said and tried to hide a grin. At least he could escape a boring dinner without making up an excuse.

"Are you ready?" Violet asked Natasha. "It's time we get you some decent clothes."

She went over to her husband and he kissed her on the cheek. "We'll have lunch at the Ritz later. Perhaps you can join us," she said and gave him a discreet smile that he returned.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p><strong>Downstairs<strong>

After lunch Carson took a walk to the village to post some letters. It was a mild spring day with a clear blue sky and a mild breeze. He took his time on his way, because he needed to think. As beautiful as working in a big house was, it also meant that one could rarely be alone. Life downstairs was always busy and if one needed time for themselves, one could only go outside.

He also secretly hoped he would meet Mrs Hughes. She had told Anna, the housemaid, earlier that she needed to run some errands this afternoon. After he had talked to her in the wine cellar some weeks earlier she had been avoiding him and he wanted, needed to apologize to her. He didn't know what had possessed him when he had told to her about the others gossiping about her and Mr Lane. He was ashamed of himself about his impertinence.

Since he wasn't particularly close to anyone downstairs he had grown to enjoy his occasional chats with her and it bothered him that she was spending so much time with Mr Lane. He knew that the two of them were in unique positions, which was the reason for their closeness. Yet, he felt there was something else between them. Something he couldn't point his finger to. There was companionship, perhaps friendship, affection, and something he didn't dare to think of. It was nothing one could see, only sense. Something mysterious and rather unseemly. And he wasn't the only one who had sensed it. Miss O'Brien and Thomas, these two vile creatures, had also noticed and they gossiped about it. He hated to see how they dragged Mrs Hughes' good name through the mud – and even more he hated to think they could be right.

Carson saw her the moment he left the post office. She was leaving the store with a package in her arms. When she detected him she stopped dead for a few seconds, but then without acknowledging his presence she just walked on, heading for the Abbey.

He gathered all his courage and followed her quickly. "Mrs Hughes!" he shouted and to his enormous relief she actually stopped and turned around.

"Please…," he gasped as he reached her. "Perhaps we could walk back together?" he asked gently.

"Only if you want to be seen with me," she returned coldly, which caused him to avoid her piercing eyes.

"I want to apologize, Mrs Hughes. I realize I had no right or reason to talk to you the way I did."

Her expression softened a bit and she shrugged marginally. "I know you meant well," she said. "But I admit it, it hurt me. I don't know what makes you think of me as..."

Carson raised his hand, before she could speak it out and add to this enormous shame. "Please, forget it. Everything I said that night. I never intended to insult or embarrass you. It'll haunt me until the day I die." He was dead serious, but she just blushed and a smile broadened on her face.

"Oh Mr Carson!" she exclaimed and paused, and looked at him, forcing him to lower lower his head, before she could see how his face coloured. "I accept your apology and now let's move on. The gong will be rung soon!"

Carson sighed in relief. Suddenly the bitterness between them was gone as they chatted in a never known familiarity on their way back to the Abbey.

**tbc**


	4. London nights

_**So this is it: chapter 4. For this chapter the rating changes from T to a very heavy T or a light M - I guess it depends on how you look at it. Consider it my early Christmas present. Thanks again to everyone who still reads and takes their time to write reviews. It's very kind and considerate of you! For those of you who are a little more impatient I can only say... I have a life. I have a job. I have a family. I'm busy and I can't write as much as I want to. The same goes for my beta. We are busy people and we do this for fun and we do as much as we can. And most important: we do it for you! **_

_**You can accept that and support us or you don't. Your choice.**_

_**But now without further ado... **_

**Chapter 4**

London, June 1912

**Grantham House, Upstairs **

A strange atmosphere lay over the town house as the members of the Crawley family retired into their rooms and prepared for bed. The last couple of days had been unusually muggy in London and tonight the atmosphere seemed to exceptionally tense.

"This heat is unbearable," Robert said, as he peeked through the curtains, hoping to see a sign of an arriving thunderstorm. But he was disappointed. The few clouds that were scattered around the sky were nothing but false hope. "I wish we could get some rain to clean the air."

"I doubt that'll happen any time soon," Cora mused and looked up from her book. She had just finished to read the same page for the third time and still didn't know what it was about. She couldn't concentrate and decided to give up on it. With a tired sigh she closed the book and said, "Why don't you come to bed? We should be well rested for tomorrow."

Robert nodded in agreement, "I guess you're right, but I doubt I'll sleep a wink tonight."

Cora smiled gently. She knew what he was talking about. "Strange to think that she's already in the same city, isn't it?"

"Strange? I think scary is the better way to describe it," Robert answered roughly. He had been feeling nervous all day and now that they were alone it started to show. Suddenly he was so very nervous that he found it hard to breathe.

"I'm sure she's as nervous as you are," Cora said.

"You think so?" Robert closed the curtain and strolled slowly to the bed. "I can't remember her being nervous about anything. I barely knew her when she left. How I can deal with a mother I don't even know?"

"That's because you were a child when she left... You'll get to know her." Cora lifted the blanket and invited Robert to join her, but he hesitated, lost in his memories. "All I remember is a young, beautiful woman with blue eyes and a posture that could scare the Archbishop of Canterbury."

"And she was still like that at our wedding," Cora remembered amusedly. Meeting Robert's mother had been a terrifying experience, because the young American Cora had lacked the confidence to deal with the formidable figure of Violet Kuragina. Today the idea of encountering the older woman seemed less scary and much more entertaining – especially because Violet would probably give Abigail a run for her money.

"Tomorrow night you will know if and how much she has changed," Cora said and reached out to take his hand.

Robert returned the squeeze and slipped under the covers. "What would I do without you?" he asked and leaned over for a kiss. "You're my anchor in the rough sea of life."

"You're quite poetic tonight." Cora purred and sneaked her arms around his neck. She moved seductively against him and played with the top button of his pyjama shirt.

"You seem to inspire me," he said lowly and sighed as he felt her lips against his jaw. He knew she provided this rather welcome diversion to ease his mood and he wouldn't dream of resisting her.

"You know you can always count on me, when you need a muse," she whispered seductively and ran her hands over his chest and down his stomach until they reached the waistband of his pants.

"Oh, I do count on you," Robert answered now quite hoarsely because her wandering hands were already doing their magic.

* * *

><p><strong>The Painswick Mansion at Eaton Square, Upstairs <strong>

They lay in darkness, face to face, both exhausted from their love making. Neither of them spoke, as they just basked in their old ritual of peaceful silence. It had been always been like this between them, from their very first secret assignation. Back then words had been too much to handle, because their love had been forbidden. Today their memories were only historical details, yet these memories made sure, they never forgot about the lengths they had to go to to be together without feeling guilty.

Igor traced the beloved figure of his wife softly with his hand, hoping his tender touch could cure every insecurity she felt inside. As much as he understood her wish to return to her home country, he also understood the pain she forced herself through. Almost four decades ago she had left everything she knew and cherished to be with him, and he prayed that he had never given her any reason to regret her decision. Yet he knew that deep down she had regrets about leaving the family, that had counted on her, behind.

Violet was not a woman who took decisions lightly and the sacrifice she had made for him was the biggest imaginable. Even today he still tried to make it up to her, to compensate the loss of her old life. And often, despite her reassurances, he felt he was failing her.

He felt her stirring beside him, knew she wanted to put on her nightgown that lay discarded on the floor. Unable to let go of the moment just yet, he gently placed his hand on her naked hip. "Don't move," he said lowly. "Not just yet."

It was only in hours like this, when she lay next to him, naked and fulfilled, that she was her true self. He took pride in the fact that he was the only breathing soul on earth who knew Violet like this. Not even her first husband had seen this side of her, because if he had, he had known better than to lose her to another man.

Outside their bedroom she was proud, determined, even cruel when it was necessary, but with him she was this passionate, desirable creature who hid nothing from him. He knew her fears and her desires just as well as she knew his.

He placed his hand on her back and pulled her a little closer until their bodies touched again.

"Insatiable, as always," she mumbled, as his mouth travelled slowly over her cheeks, her mouth and then down her neck. He smiled against her skin and let his hands roam over her back where he ran his finger along her spine, which always caused her to tremble, no matter how hard she tried to remain physically unimpressed. Verbally refusing him was Violet's favourite ritual, while her body was already speaking another, much more reliable language. Some nights he played along and refused to give her what she ached for until she was begging him to release her. Sometimes he just ignored her statements and drove her into a frenzy that left her undone.

Inspired by the nature of their visit and the upcoming day, when they would face the Crawleys for the first time in 22 years, he decided for the latter and softly guided her onto her back. He lavished her body with kisses and well placed caresses until she became so vocal that he had to muffle her sounds with his mouth.

* * *

><p><strong>Downton Abbey, Downstairs<strong>

It was rather late, actually close to midnight by the time Elsie Hughes looked up from her book. Her eyes were tired and so she closed the novel with a small sigh. It was her second Dickens this month and she didn't know for how much longer she could take the bleakness it his stories. The coldness of his workhouses didn't fit the strange mugginess of the Yorkshire summer.

Since the family and most of the servants had left for London two weeks ago, reading was the only occupation she could think of to fill her lonely spare time. Between the cleaning of the house and the handling of the young maids who loved the idea of having the house for themselves, her books were Elsie's escape. Her life in Downton in the summer was a lonely affair. Especially the evenings were lonely. After the rather early servants dinners at eight there was not much left to be done. Of course, she could always call it an early night, but she wasn't the one who needed much sleep. She preferred a busy life to a lazy one and so she read, because that way she wouldn't have to think about anything else.

On evenings like this she particularly missed the ease of Mr Lane and Mr Carson's company. She missed the chitchatting and the eventual glass of sherry. She couldn't afford that kind of familiarity with the maids or the other staff under her care. Well, she could try with Miss O'Brien and Mrs Patmore, but O'Brien was a dark horse and Mrs Patmore would just try to steal the keys for the cupboards. So she just had the butler and valet to talk to and even the relationship with them had been rather complicated lately and the more she thought about it, the more she realized how she had brought this onto herself.

Ever since Mr Carson had told her how the other servants were gossiping about her and Mr Lane, she had shut everyone out. A panic she didn't understand or knew had taken over and had controlled her. For the first time in her life she had realized what it meant to be in the centre of gossip. Her reputation and, to some extent, her job, had been on the line. The feeling had scared her and so she had done what she did best. She hid inside her shell until she was ready to face the world again. But now her world was a lonely place.

Wearily she switched off the lights and slowly went upstairs to her room. The house was silent, peaceful, yet Elsie felt haunted and wished the season would be over as soon as possible.

* * *

><p><strong>London, Grantham House, Downstairs <strong>

Mr Carson knocked on the butler's door and respectfully waited until he was called in, before he entered. He found Mr Lane behind his desk. He had taken off his white tie and had opened the first buttons of his shirt. The sight was unusual (Carson blamed it on the hot weather) and he wondered what was going on.

"Shouldn't you call it a night?" Carson asked, slightly uncomfortable. He hoped the butler wasn't about to get ill, or something similarly inconvenient.

"I will, Mr Carson," Lane answered and rose to his feet. "But I first had to deal with something rather unpleasant."

Carson raised his eyebrow. "Nothing too bad, I hope."

Lane smirked. "Depends on how you look at it. I'm afraid I had to sack our housekeeper one hour ago."

Carson was shocked. He had known Mrs Butte for several years now and couldn't fathom what she could have done wrong. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid I found her in the wine cellar with the chauffeur of Lord Merton. And they weren't checking on the wine, if you know what I mean." He gave Carson a meaningful look. The valet didn't know what to say. He was aghast.

"What a very disturbing thought." He said and swallowed, hoping he wouldn't blush. "Did you talk to his Lordship?" Carson cleared his throat.

"Of course, I did and we agreed that Mrs Butte has to go." Lane sighed. "An unpleasant business, but she's brought it onto herself, I'm afraid."

Carson could only agree. He felt rather disappointed in the housekeeper. Her behaviour was undignified for a member of this household. "But can you find a substitute? What shall we do without a housekeeper?"

Lane smiled mysteriously. "I already had an idea and Her Ladyship agrees with me. I'll send a telegram to Downton first thing. Mrs Hughes will have to come to London."

Carson nodded slowly and deep down in his stomach a warm feeling started spreading. It replaced the anger about the other housekeeper' indiscretion and he started to smile.

"You're certainly right, Mr Lane. Calling on Mrs Hughes is the most practical thing to do."

Lane nodded, but his smile was fading while he talked. "I knew you would think so."

**~~~tbc~~**


	5. Guess who's coming for dinner

**A happy New Year to all of you! I hope you could spend some nice holidays with your loved ones! Here's a new chapter. The one so many of you have asked. Finally the Granthams and the Kuragins meet face to face! Read and see for yourself who is about to make some new friends and who is ready to fight old, but never boring battles! Also in this chapter: Mrs Hughes arrives in London and receives some unsettling news!**

**A tight hug goes to my beta, Gemenied. A marvellous friend. Every mistake you may find is my mistake, not hers. **

**Chapter 5 **

**London, Grantham House, Upstairs **

Cora secretly watched her husband who had been watching his mother in absolute awe all evening. Whatever the family had expected from Violet, none of them had been disappointed. To Cora the Violet from today didn't differ from the woman she had met 22 years ago. She was formidable and awe inspiring. Cora was just not scared by her any more. To the girls she was as fascinating as an estranged relative could be and to Robert his mother was as unreachable as always. He admired her like a boy admired a Christmas tree after he had seen it for the first time, but didn't dare to approach it too closely, afraid it could lose its perfection. The only family member who was utterly unfazed was Abigail. So far she hadn't spoken one word. Actually she had even refused to welcome the Kuragins on their arrival and had only appeared at the dinner table, which was just ill-bred.

Aside from the frosty and downright hostile demeanour of her mother-in-law, Cora was rather pleased with the evening. She had put a lot of effort into the seating arrangements and it seemed to pay off. To keep Abigail at bay and to prevent uncomfortable situations she had invited Lord Merton, Mary's godfather and his wife to join them for dinner. And her plan was working out. So far the whole evening was much more pleasant than she had feared.

The Kuragins proved to be a very entertaining addition. Especially Alexander Kuragin was a lively, charming dinner guest, who could provide many funny anecdotes. His twin sister was more calm and collected than her brother (indeed she reminded Cora a bit of Mary), but was nevertheless charming and as she had to admit, strikingly beautiful. The Prince, who sat next to Cora, was understandingly reserved, but kind. Cora wondered how it must feel for him to sit at the table of the late Earl. If the idea was intimidating him, he knew how to conceal it.

"I hope you find the house at Eaton Square to your convenience," Cora said to Kuragin. "It hasn't been used for some time."

"It's a wonderful house. Thank you. We feel welcome there," Kuragin answered and added in a lower voice. "I think it's a comfort for the Princess to know her daughter lived in such a beautiful place."

Cora smiled. "I should hope so. Rosamund loved the house and she took great care of it."

Kuragin nodded gently. "You're rather kind to us. I wasn't sure your welcome would be so… warm, but I'm glad it is. I had reserved expectations for this visit."

Touched by his words, Cora lowered her eye lashes. "We do our best…. I think it's hard for Robert. He has to get used to all of you. He needs time."

"I imagine he isn't the only one," Kuragin said and looked at Abigail, who, rather stiffly, emptied a glass of wine.

"You could be right about that," Cora agreed with a sigh. "But she isn't the one who really matters in this, is she?"

Kuragin raised his eyebrows and returned his attention back to Cora. "I hope not."

On the other side of the table Robert and Violet tried to keep their own conversation going, which seemed rather difficult. Violet, who was usually the master of small talk, uncharacteristically failed to do so with her own son.

"We went to Rosamund's grave this afternoon," Violet said. "You've picked a very peaceful place for her and her husband."

"We owed that to her," Robert said with a lump in his throat. "After this horrible accident they deserved some peace."

Violet kept silent and took a sip of her wine. "I hope you find her house convenient," Robert continued. "I thought you might like it."

"I do…," Violet replied. "In fact, we all do."

"It's a marvellous place." Natasha who had been eavesdropping on their conversation quickly jumped in. "It seems to me they were a couple with great taste."

"They were," Robert said and looked curiously at Natasha and noticed her beautiful purple dress. "I was sorry to hear about your husband's death. I met him a few years ago."

Natasha seemed surprised. "Oh... he never told me so." Irritated by that Robert added, "It was a brief meeting in my club. He was meeting some business partners of his."

Natasha smiled, "Possibly. Jacques was always busy as a bee. May he rest in peace now."

"Is it true that he fell down his very own staircase and broke his neck?"

Suddenly the room was filled with silence. For the first time since she had entered the room, Abigail had spoken and she was now directly staring at Natasha who gave her a polite smile.

"Unfortunately that's true," Natasha said. "I found him."

"It was an unfortunate accident," Alexander added quickly. His usual smiling face was changed into a mask of stone. The threat hung in the air, but Abigail chose to continue.

"But weren't there rumours of murder?" Abigail asked. "I mean the police were investigating his death for several weeks."

Robert grew pale and looked quickly at Cora who struggled to come up with a diversion.

"Of course, they did," Violet said promptly. "That's called routine after an unexpected death." Violet gave Abigail a vile glance that was completely ignored by her.

"It must have been most unpleasant," Abigail said sweetly, still staring at Natasha. "You were in the line of fire, weren't you?"

"It was rather exciting, actually," Natasha replied, still smiling and took a sip of wine. "But they never had to print the wanted posters."

"Right. Thank God we could move on from this unpleasant episode," Alexander said.

"And so must we all!" Cora ended her mother-in-law's insulting interview with a firm look and changed the subject. "Have you made plans for the rest of the week?" she asked Natasha.

"Actually we were thinking of visiting the National Gallery tomorrow, haven't we, Alexander?"

"I'm your creature," Alexander answered with a twinkle in his eye. "Whatever you say."

"Maybe the girls and I could join you," Cora suggested.

"That would be fun," Sybil said delightedly.

Natasha and her brother exchanged a look, smiled at each other and nodded simultaneously. "That would be fun... unless, Mary and Edith have already made other plans."

Mary shook her head. "As a matter of fact, no and Edith is hardly in the position to turn down any offer she gets."

Edith rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but stayed silent upon the insult.

"It's settled then," Cora said with a smile and raised her glass. Robert said nothing, but nodded in agreement.

Across the table Igor gave Violet a smile, but her eyes were fixed on Abigail who was putting her head together with Lady Merton. Igor's smile vanished and he sighed lowly.

"As you see, we do our best to keep her in check," Cora said lowly.

"I know, but I doubt that'll be enough," he replied. She couldn't argue with that.

* * *

><p><strong>Painswick House, Eaton Square, Upstairs <strong>

"If that awful woman dares to talk to my daughter like this again, I'll throw her into the channel!" Furiously, Violet stared at the flames in the fireplace.

After their return from the Grantham House Igor and Violet had decided to have a drink in the library while Tasha and Alexander had already gone to bed.

"Tasha handled herself quite well," Kuragin said as he refilled his glass. "You should ignore the Dowager. Don't let her provoke you."

"Easier said than done. I can't believe Lord Grantham let her raise my children," her voice was low and she appeared lost in her thoughts.

Igor froze for a second and approached her slowly. "Do I hear regret in your words, my dear?" he asked lowly.

She jerked her head up and seemed surprised to find him standing next to her. "What did you say?"

"Do you regret it?"

"Coming here? No..." she shook her head.

"That's not what I mean. Do you regret going with me all these years ago?"

Violet lost her colour. "How can you think that?"

Igor smiled a humourless smile. "Because you lost your children because of me. Running away with me almost ruined you. Sometimes I wonder if your sacrifices weren't too great and you must, too."

Touched by the sadness in his eyes, Violet reached out to caress his cheek. "No. We've talked about this ad nauseam. The only thing I regret is not coming here earlier. I missed out on too much of their lives."

"Are you sure, that's all? Are you sure I've made you happy enough to justify... us?"

Violet shook her head and took his hand. She squeezed it tightly and looked him in the eyes.

"I don't have to justify anything. Not to the old bat or to anyone else."

* * *

><p><strong>Grantham House, Downstairs, the next morning<strong>

Mrs Hughes arrived shortly before lunchtime. She hadn't been in London in years and the prospect of managing the town house of the Granthams on her own for the first time excited her a bit, but, of course, she was more than willing to get on with it. But before she took her time to acquaint herself with the house, she knocked at Mr Lane's door. She was curious about the circumstances of him summoning her and deep down inside she also wanted to see him alone.

"Mrs Hughes!" he greeted her with a bright smile. "I'm glad you're here! The maids were already afraid I would start to give them orders!"

She smiled upon the joke and closed the door behind her. "I'm sure they're as surprised as I am. So… why am I here? Your telegram was rather ominous."

"I know…," he seemed to hesitate, before he offered her the chair in front of his desk.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be more specific, but I thought it was better this way. You see, we had to sack Mrs Butte."

"My, my…." Elsie was stunned. "I thought she had fallen ill or something."

"I'm afraid the 'or something' is the case."

"What did she do?"

"She forgot to lock the door," Lane explained darkly.

"I beg your pardon?"

Lane chuckled. "Mrs Hughes…. I didn't expect you to be so naïve…. Last night I found her in the wine cellar in a rather uncomfortable and awkward situation with one of the guest's chauffeurs."

"Oh." Elsie swallowed and blushed. She quickly lowered her gaze and looked at her neatly trimmed finger nails.

"As you can imagine it gave me no pleasure to execute the task of signing her off," he said bitterly. "But she gave me no choice. Unfortunately."

"I see. Poor woman. I imagine she didn't receive a proper reference." She didn't dare to look up, but she felt Mr Lane's gaze upon her and it caused a shiver down her spine.

"As a matter of fact, I did give her a proper reference."

"That was kind," Elsie said lowly.

"It was the least… and the best I could do for her." For several moments neither of them said a word. Then Lane straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Her Ladyship hasn't decided yet, whether she wants to hire a new housekeeper, so you'll have to stay for the time being."

Elsie finally looked up again and met his eyes. "I see."

"I hope that's not too inconvenient for you," Mr Lane said staidly. Now the corners of her mouth twitched in irony. As if she had any other choice….

"Not at all."

Lane smiled. "I'm glad to hear it."

She rose and smoothed her skirts. "I think I have to get to my work."

"Yes, you should. I think the others will be glad to see you."

She crocked her eyebrow. "You think so?"

The answer came without hesitation. "I know so. I'm not your only admirer."

Against her will, she blushed again. "Flatterer," she whispered more to the door than to him and left his office. Lane leaned back with a sigh, glad she was the kind of woman who would never forget to lock a door when necessary.

**~~tbc~~**


	6. Unwelcome guests

**Here's Chapter 6, which I hope you will enjoy. The plot is slowly thickening one could say. Let me know what you think, because that'll tell me, if it makes sense to develop the various plotlines or not. Thanks for reading! **

**I also say thank you to my beta "Gemenied", who justb this... a gem :-) **

**Chapter 6**

**Unwelcome Guests **

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, Upstairs, the next day **

Violet was not amused when her maid woke her up before 8 o'clock, but she wasn't honestly surprised when she was told the reason for that was an early visitor. No other than Abigail Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham.

"The woman is as subtle as an elephant," Violet growled and sat up in bed. "But she's wrong when she thinks she can march right into this house and shake us up!"

"Send her away," Igor yawned next to her. His eyes were still closed and he seemed rather unwilling to start the day yet. "Summon her for tea... next year."

"Oh no. I bet she spent a sleepless night thinking of something to do to me. I don't want her efforts to go to waste."

Finally Kuragin opened his eyes and looked up to her. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Violet gave him a smile. "Thank you, but I've got my own claws to show."

"As long as you don't use them on me, I shall be content with them." He took her hand and kissed her finger tips "Don't let her get under your skin. She's not worth it."

**Grantham House, Downstairs **

After dressing his Lordship Carson returned downstairs. He wore a bright smile on his lips and felt more exhilarated than he had in months. The first person he had come across this morning had been Mrs Hughes who had arrived the day before. Just as he, she was an early riser who loved to have time for herself in the morning, before the usual routine absorbed her.

He found himself looking for her every time he passed the hallway and today was no exception. He passed her office and wanted to enter it, but stopped dead in the doorway when he noticed she wasn't alone. She was talking to Mr Lane. The butler had turned his back to the open door and he had lowered his voice, but Carson involuntarily overheard a few snippets of their conversation.

"Just five minutes... we need to talk."

"All right," the housekeeper whispered. "Tonight... when they're all gone."

Quickly Carson withdrew, pretending he hadn't noticed a thing. Whatever their conversation was about wasn't his business, but he would be lying if he said it didn't bother him.

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, Upstairs **

Abigail had waited for over an hour, before Violet finally appeared downstairs. Abigail had always wondered how a woman who had so recklessly thrown away her reputation and her family could still behave as if she were a lady. Many years ago when Violet visited Downton to attend her son's wedding she had walked around the Abbey as if she still owned it and today, in her late daughter's home, she behaved in the same arrogant manner. Apparently, the years she had to spent in the shadows had not taught her a lesson and so it was on Abigail to ensure Violet received a lesson she wouldn't forget.

"I hope you didn't get bored waiting here on your own," Violet said, after she had closed the door. "But we only expected sales people or the Salvation Army at this early hour."

She crossed the room with slow and deliberate steps. Abigail was sitting in an armchair, still fully dressed with an expression on her face that could freeze an iceberg.

"But I see they got you some tea." Violet looked at the tray that wasn't touched.

"I'm not here for pleasant small talk or for tea," Abigail said. "I rather think it's time we set things straight."

Violet smiled gently and sank onto the sofa. "Well, shoot then. I'm all ears."

Abigail drew a deep breath. "I resent you being here. I think you and your whole tribe belong into a hole where no one can find you. You had your little adventure by coming here, but it has and will end here and now. Take your husband, your children and go back to Paris."

Violet looked attentively at her visitor. "I see. Well, you and I go back a long way. I really thought you would find kinder words to express your wishes, but as you wish... Now let me set some things straight. Neither I or my tribe, as you call them, have the slightest wish to leave. You'll have to get used to our presence at my son's table and if you find you are unable to do so, you can stay away, though I doubt you will. You are always afraid of missing something when you're not around."

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" Abigail hissed. "Playing the grand lady when everybody knows what you are?! You'll ruin Robert's reputation just like you ruined his father's when you ran away like some silly scullery maid!"

Violets' eyes narrowed dangerously, but she kept her tongue. This was dangerous terrain, but she didn't want to do Abigail the favour of losing her temper. Instead she took the small bell from the table and rang.

"If that's all they'll see you out." She rose and waited for Abigail to do the same. But the Dowager remained in her chair and looked up to Violet. She wasn't beaten yet and she hadn't expected to impress Violet in the first place.

"You know, Lord Grantham told me what happened after Robert's wedding when we all were asleep."

Violet stopped in her movement and looked confused at Abigail. "I beg your pardon."

Abigail smirked, "He told me how you tried to seduce him. Not that he was interested in you, but of course you believed that every man had to be under your spell. He told me how tired you were of your life in Paris with this Russian savage... how you threw yourself at him and begged him to take you back. How you made an utter fool of yourself...," Abigail's voice trailed off and she waited for the meaning to settle in.

"That's a downright lie," Violet said firmly. "And I'd advise you not to tell lies. They usually leave a bitter taste in one's mouth."

"I wonder how the Prince would react to such a revelation," Abigail continued and slowly rose. "I can imagine it wasn't easy for him to let you go back to England... from what I hear he's the jealous type... quite passionate when it comes to you. I'm sure he wouldn't take the news of you being... attempting to be unfaithful with your former husband, too well."

"He wouldn't believe you." Violet's gaze was steady, as was her voice.

"Perhaps not at first... but I bet he would spent a serious amount of time thinking about it. After all he knows what you're capable of. He knows firsthand how easy you stray and how you can turn a man's head."

Violet stared at Abigail and opened her mouth, but before she could phrase her thoughts, the door opened and the butler appeared.

"Think about my proposition, Princess," Abigail said, as she passed her. "It could benefit the both of us."

**National Gallery **

"There's one thing I don't quite understand," Mary said to Alexander Kuragin, as they strolled through the exhibition in the Salisbury Wing. She and Alexander had separated from the rest of the group, while Sybil, Edith, Cora and Natasha were still in the room behind them.

"What do you want to know?"

"You don't have a title, but shouldn't you be a Prince as well?"

Alexander chuckled. "Under normal circumstances, yes. But since our family is a little different, no. As I understand, it was some kind of deal my father had to make with the Tsar. My mother is a Princess, but in case, they would have children, they wouldn't receive any Russian honours."

"Do you mind?" Mary asked, a bit bewildered.

Alexander shook his head, "No. We've lived quite well so far... of course, we've had some rough times at school, but we Kuragins stick together."

Mary didn't even pretend to understand. "I'm not sure, I could live like this."

"You're young," Alexander said. "At your age I felt the same, but as I grew older and took a closer look at my parents, I started to understand."

"What did you understand?"

"Love. My parents love each other and that's why they thought it was worth the risk and the consequences. I think it was worst for my mother. She had to carry the biggest burden, because women always pay the highest price when things become unconventional. She had to endure the gossip, the rumours, the disregard, but in some ways she's made of steel and she never talked about it – at least not to us."

Mary shook her head. "I don't know, if I could summon the courage."

Alexander smiled at her. "I think you're more like her than you think."

"I'm not sure Papa would like to hear that," Mary said and lowered her eye lashes.

"Perhaps not, but once he and Mama have talked it all out, he will. You know... people say I'm not married yet, because I can't settle down, but the truth is..."

"Yes?"

"I want what my parents have. The kind of love that makes it worth to throw everything away."

"You're quite a romantic."

Alexander chuckled, "Could you please tell that to my mother? She thinks I only want to rob her off more grandchildren."

Behind them Edith couldn't help, but to watch Mary and their new-found uncle closely.

Only someone like Mary could actually start flirting with her own uncle. She wasn't sure she really liked the new additions to their family. Not that anyone had really asked for her opinion in general, aside from Grandmother Abigail.

They seemed a bit too exhilarating and too self-confident for a family that was notorious in their circles. With a background like this Edith would have expected them to be more low key and humble, but the contrary was the case.

Her grandmother and her husband were imperious and especially Violet seemed rather aloof. Natasha DeWilde was scary in her beauty and reminded her of Mary, though she was less arrogant, but therefore mysterious in her silence. Alexander Kuragin was the opposite of this sister. He was dashing and entertaining, the kind of man who would never look at someone like Edith.

She wasn't sure she wanted to have them around for longer, it was already enough that everyone was on the edge, because the new heir would arrive at Downton in September. The Kuragins could only complicate life for all of them.

**Grantham House, after dinner, Downstairs **

The key turned in the old lock and the twitchy light of the old oil lamp produced distorted shadows along the walls of the wine cellar. It was late, the guests had left and the family[,] as well as most of the servants, had retired.

She felt ridiculous being down here with him, only a week after he had sacked Mrs Butte, but she hadn't rejected his request to meet in here either.

"This is insane," Elsie said lowly, as if she was afraid someone could overhear them.

"Do you have a better idea?" Lane asked. "I know, it's grotesque to meet in here, but there's no place in this entire house where two people can have a private conversation without being under surveillance."

She sighed. "I'm not sure I want this."

"Well, at last you've certainly made clear in the last few weeks that you don't want to see me privately any more. I just want to know why."

"I think you know why! People were talking!"

"They know nothing. They just love to gossip!" He sighed out loud and crossed his arms over his chest. "You regret it, don't you?"

She blushed. "I haven't said that."

"You don't need to. I can see it every time you look at me."

"I don't regret it. It just shouldn't have happened." She shifted from one foot onto the other, uncomfortable with the situation. "We can't afford this... weakness. Not in our positions."

Lane cracked a smile and stepped closer. "That's where we differ. I think our positions isolate us... we're lonely people and we can only rely on each other. That's not weakness." He raised his hand to touch her cheek. "I understand, if you don't want more, but let me be your friend at least."

Elsie repaid his tender gesture with a smile and placed her hand upon his. "I'd thought that's what we already are... friends."

**Grantham House, after dinner, upstairs **

"You can't be serious!" Abigail glared at her daughter-in-law, as if Cora had just told her to drop dead. Cora had asked Abigail into the library, because she didn't want to tell her mother-in-law her latest plan in company. She feared the older woman's reaction, yet she was determined not to back down.

"Oh, I am and Robert agrees with me," Cora answered smoothly. Abigail had always hated Cora's accent, but it never had been more annoying than today. Cora's brazen way of undermining her angered her beyond measure.

"You can't invite this woman and her tribe to Downton! You have no right to!"

"Oh, it's my house and I have every right to," Cora reminded her. "It's good for Robert."

"That's ridiculous!"

"What are you so afraid of?" Cora asked. "No one is threatening your position in the family!" Abigail jerked around and Cora realized she had struck a nerve.

"I know that!" Abigail shot back. "But don't you fear the influence this woman could have on the girls and their reputation, not to mention their whole future? With a notorious grandmother like her... Not to mention her children! One is a murder suspect and the other one a skirt chaser!"

Cora cut her off. "I think you exaggerate. And our decision is made. I've already written to them. Prince Kuragin and his family will be joining us in September!"

"So, you'll have the new heir and those people around the house together?" Abigail asked appalled. "He'll be delighted to be welcomed in a notorious home like ours!"

"He's a middle class lawyer from Manchester," Cora reminded her. "I doubt he'll be as disgusted as you are."

"I'm disappointed in you, Cora," Abigail hissed. "I always knew you had less class than the dignity of your position demanded, but that you could sink so low is a surprise!"

For a moment the women just glared at each other, then Cora turned around and strolled to the door. "I should hate to be predictable. And if you will excuse me now, I'm tired. Lane will see you to the door."

**~~~~tbc~~~~**


End file.
